Peter Lovesey - Diamond Dust

'He'll read about the body in the paper tomorrow. It's going to cross his mind, isn't it?'

'That may be so, Peter, but I think you're making a mistake here. You should let things take their course.'

'What? Wait for everyone to find out?'

'Mm.'

'For Christ's sake, why?'

Julie said in the firm tone she'd learned to use when this ex-boss of hers was at his most overbearing, 'You're asking for my advice, and this is it. Talking to Weather at this stage isn't going to help you. He'll be in no state to think straight.'

He was silent, locked into his own thoughts, forced to accept the simple truth of her conclusion. 'That's a point. I wasn't.'

She waited a moment, making sure it had sunk in. 'So you'll stay clear?'

He sighed heavily. 'Of Stormy? I guess I'll have to. But I can do some ferreting of my own – with a little help from my old chum Louis Voss – getting up to speed with stuff I thought I'd never need to bother with again.'

'Case files from the nineteen-eighties?'

'Yes.'

'Property of the Met? Dodgy.'

'You're not going to give me another no, no?'

'I wouldn't dream of it, guv.'

After putting down the phone he fed the cat from one tin and himself from another. The basics of existence. Coping better than I expected, he'd claimed to Julie. True, in a way. He didn't have space in his life for self-pity. The drive to find Steph's killer occupied him totally.

But he would let Stormy Weather have one more night in ignorance.

He put in an early appearance at the nick next morning. Early by his standards. Curtis McGarvie, the focused, committed, hot-shit detective was always in by eight and expected the incident room to be humming when he arrived. An impressive regime – and what results had it achieved?

So Diamond looked in about eight-thirty, trying to fix his eyes on people rather than the photos of Steph's body displayed along one wall. There was a school of thought that said a murder squad worked better with visual reminders of the crime all around them. He'd never subscribed to it.

Keith Halliwell came over. 'All right, guv?'

'Fair to middling. Is robocop about?'

'Upstairs with the ACC. Something he saw in the papers.'

No prize for guessing. He'd catch up with the papers shortly. 'Maybe you can tell me, Keith. What's the latest take on Dixon-Bligh, Steph's ex?'

'None that I heard. We asked the Met to trace him if they can. Thought it would be straightforward, but nothing has come through. He's covered his tracks apparently.'

'I put the frighteners on him. Between you and me, Keith, he gave me some lip and I stuck one on him. Better not tell your boss.'

'I won't. Is he a toerag, then?'

Diamond couldn't let it pass. 'Who do you mean?'

Straight-faced, Halliwell said, 'Dixon-Bligh.' He'd missed the point entirely, which was a good thing.

'Don't ask me,' Diamond said. 'I'm going to be biased, aren't I? Actually, I shouldn't have hit him. I was needling the bastard, trying to get a response, so it's no wonder he slagged me off. I hardly know the guy. What I heard from Steph didn't impress me much. No doubt you've checked his service record and everything else?'

'School reports, library tickets, vaccinations, birth weight and date of conception,' Halliwell said with a slight smile. 'We don't do things by half. He was running a restaurant after he left the Air Force.'

'Yes, he-' Diamond stopped before the rest came out. 'It was in Guildford, Surrey, that restaurant.'

'That's right, guv. Is it important?'

Diamond was asking himself the same question. Guildford was only five miles south of Woking, the next stop on the railway. Anyone travelling from Guildford to London would pass the stretch of embankment where yesterday's body had been found. 'May be nothing,' he told Halliwell. 'Just a passing thought. He had a partner in the restaurant. Did you find out her name?'

'Fiona Appleby. They parted, we understand. Then he sold the business and moved to London.'

'Blyth Road, Hammersmith, for a bit. Then Westway Terrace, Paddington.'

'Right. Then he goes off the screen. Do you really think he hoofed it because you showed up in his life, guv?'

'Could be. But I have to say Westway Terrace is not a place anyone would want to stay in for long. Does he have a job?'

'He isn't on the unemployed register.'

'Got on his bike and looked for work, I expect,' Diamond murmured. He heard someone enter the room behind him and noticed a change in the posture of the civilian computer operator, a definite bracing of the neck and shoulders.

Without turning, he said, 'Morning, Mr McGarvie.'

'Peter. Is this a courtesy call, or have you remembered something?' asked the Senior Investigating Officer with a touch of sarcasm. There was a distinct gleam in the bloodshot eyes this morning.

'Just comparing notes with Keith on Dixon-Bligh,' Diamond said. 'He's proving elusive.'

'Rather.' But McGarvie had something more urgent on his mind. 'Seen the papers?'

'Not yet.'

He had the Daily Telegraph folded open at an inner page. 'What do you make of that?'

Diamond skimmed through the report of the grisly find by the railway at Woking. 'Nasty.'

'Is that all you've got to say?'

'Shocking, then.'

'This woman was killed by two shots to the head.'

'I spotted that.'

'And you can't find anything more to say than "shocking"? Doesn't it strike you as a remarkable coincidence? A middle-aged woman?'

'Actually, no,' Diamond said in the bored voice of a man who has heard nothing new. 'I don't think it's a coincidence at all. This is another shooting by the same gunman. I'd put money on it.'

McGarvie glared. 'My point exactly. I've just been with the ACC, and she agrees. We've contacted Surrey Headquarters and I'm going up to the crime scene this afternoon. It could be the breakthrough I've…' His voice faltered.

'Been waiting for?'

He'd laid himself wide open, and he knew it. 'I'll remind you that this case has twice been reviewed, and each time I've been confirmed as the SIO.'

'They must think highly of you. Enjoy your trip to Woking.' He managed to resist adding, 'Been there, done that.' He'd asked that bright young detective Billy Bowers to play dumb with McGarvie, and he probably would.

About the time McGarvie was motoring along the M4 to Woking, Diamond boarded the train to London. Whoever wrote the slogan about letting the train take the strain could have had the big detective in mind. Travel by motorway was on a par with ordeal by fire. In the comfort of the InterCity Express, he could review a case and decide on the next move. That was the theory, anyway. He read the report in the Express of WOMAN ON LINE SHOT 'EXECUTION STYLE' and woke up at Paddington unsure when he'd nodded off.

He was fully alert when he entered the Fox and Pheasant in Fulham. Louis Voss came in soon after with a briefcase under his arm.

'I feel like a character in a le Carre novel.'

'In your dreams, Louis. Inspector Clouseau, more like. Is it a lager for you?'

'Scotch.'

When Diamond returned with the drinks, he came straight to the point. 'You've got something in the briefcase?'

'I thought it would be simple accessing the old files through the computer system, but of course you were pre-computer. I had to go downstairs to Records and talk my way in there. Then it was a matter of sorting through any number of dusty old packets tied with string.'

'And…?'

'My clothes are filthy. I've a good mind to send you the dry-cleaning bill, but I think I found your main cases – except for Missendale.'

'That went to a board of inquiry. It wouldn't be down there. Doesn't matter. It wouldn't have any bearing. You found the protection case, I hope? Joe Florida?'